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This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:<\/p>\n
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The machine-gun rattle of the ratchet on the jib sheet winch snapped me out of my reverie and reminded me that we were tacking. I needed to think about where I was sitting, what I was doing and holding and where I was looking. I had been staring off at the coast,at the waves as they crashed into the end of the headland. Such power and majesty \u2013 I see it often and yet it always moves me.<\/p>\n
Jacques turned to me, cigarette in his mouth as ever, and nodded that all was ok; we had gone about cleanly and now we needed to trim the boat and do our part to help Yves plough the course that would extend our lead. As I settled into my spot I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warm sun on my face and the fresh smell of the sea on the breeze; the feeling of salt on my skin.<\/p>\n
I have been told by some that it is corny to speak romantically of the sea and my connection to it \u2013 we are an island nation, so we are all sailors at heart they have said to me. Still in that moment I knew no greater joy than making way under sail.<\/p>\n
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You can see the original post on Ficlets.com<\/a> by clicking here<\/a>.<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:<\/p>\n
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